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The phone was my greatest weapon. The note was the second. It was basic type, large font, black ink. Beyond that, I had no clue what other secrets that piece of paper held, but experts who studied that sort of thing would. And those experts—the police—would have to be called if I couldn’t handle this idiotic crap myself.
Leaning on the police for help, though…
I grimaced as I plowed through the drowning streets. Calling the cops would be the absolute last resort. Law enforcement could always be manipulated, of course, especially under these circumstances. But from the age of eight I’d been taught to avoid the police like they were plague carriers. They asked too many questions.
Do you have any enemies, Miss Steadfast?
How did you make those enemies, Miss Steadfast?
Is Eden Steadfast your actual name? Sounds suspicious, like it was made up. Were you born with that name, Miss Steadfast? For that matter, where were you born, Miss Steadfast? You don’t have a Chicago accent, so why don’t you tell us your entire life story?
God.
The police had to be avoided at all costs.
But again, that was okay. I had this.
When the pickup screeched to a halt in the driveway of a single-story Craftsman-style house, I parked right behind them, almost nose to bumper. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the driver’s door swing open, and I hustled to make sure I was out as well, purse strapped across my body and hand in its depths. There were one or two goodies in there to keep overly exuberant fans from my former life at a distance, and I wanted to keep my options open. I just wondered if pepper spray worked in downpours like this.
No time like the present to find out.
The rain tried to drown me the moment I stepped out of the car. The sound of it was deafening, but I could still hear the muffled sound of a woman’s voice as she turned back toward the open door of her truck. My heart rage-pounded so hard I actually heard it as I imagined her turning around with a sawed-off shotgun. But even as I did, part of my mind stumbled in confusion.
A woman?
I’d thought my letter-writer would be a man, thanks to the word “bitch.” True, I was a bitch, especially when I was harassed. But the writer had used it like it was the worst of all slurs, and that had felt like it came from a man’s mind, not a woman’s.
Tense, expecting anything, I sucked in a lungful of air to fuel a shout. “Hey!”
“I’m sorry, oh God, please, I’m so sorry.” With the sound of sobs coming from both the woman and the depths of the car, the woman turned, and in her arms she held…
A baby. No more than a year old.
Huh.
Definitely not a shotgun.
“Please don’t hurt us, I swear I didn’t mean to cut you off at the light. I just had to get us home, my baby’s sick with an ear infection, and I had to pick up her medicine, otherwise I would have never gone out with her being in such bad shape—”
At that point the baby, dressed in frog-covered footie jammies and partially covered by a jacket her mother had haphazardly thrown over her head, let out a screaming wail to let the world know she was the most miserable scrap of life on earth.
In a heartbeat, I changed my face.
“I promise, I’m not here to hurt you.” I let go of the pepper spray in my purse to hold both my hands up, palms out. “I’m so sorry I scared you. I could just tell by the erratic way you were driving that you were in some kind of distress, so I thought I’d follow to make sure you’re all right. But you’re not, are you? What can I do to help?”Stranger-danger, lady, I thought at her as hard as I could. She needed to tell me to go away so I could drive straight back to the stupid store and harass the manager into letting me see if their security cameras had caught my secret admirer.
“Help?” The woman blinked, before her face crumpled and she let out a sob that easily matched her kid’s. “Oh God, I was so scared. I’m so sorry—”
Yikes, I’d really scared her. “I’m the one who’s sorry, I swear. Um…” A little helplessly I looked around, feeling guilty that I’d terrorized an innocent woman while at the same time climbing out of my skin to get back on the hunt. There was someone out there I needed to throttle, but it wasn’t this poor, overwhelmed woman and her sick kid. “Is this your house? Can I help you two get in out of the rain, or should we call an ambulance for your little one? I’ll sit and wait with you so you don’t have to be alone.” Honestly, it was the least I could do.
“I… This is our house. I don’t need an ambulance for her. I just need to get Amanda’s medicine out of the car…”
“Amanda, a name that meansshe who must be loved.” I made sure my smile stayed in place as I took a cautious step back. I needed to extract myself from this monumental fuck-up, fast. “A perfect name for a much-loved child, I’m sure. Well, if you’re sure you don’t need me to stay wi—”
“Wait.” The woman struggled to hold her coat over her screaming daughter’s head while the rain pounded down. “Look, if you could just hold her for a second, I’d really appreciate it. When she’s feeling this bad, all she wants is to be held, and I’ve still got to get her medicine, Pedialyte and rice pudding out of the car, not to mention get the house keys out of my purse…”
Damn it.
Then again, served me right.
